When mom and dad divorced, considering my mother’s crazy hours at the hospital and her obvious displeasure with the relationship I was in, it was mutually agreed that I would live with my dad.  I had gotten my driver’s license that year and I would visit her often, but as time marched on we began slipping away from each other.  She would cancel plans we had made because of a work emergency or because something came up, and then ask to reschedule.  Looking back I think she honestly did not believe that Ashley and I would last as long as we did.  One night I decided to bring Ashley with me.

            “Get out of this house!”  My mother yelled at Ashley before she was even through the door.  My heart broke at that moment, as Ashley dropped her head in defeat and turned around to walk out the door.  I quickly grabbed her hand and entwined our fingers.

            “If she goes, I go.  Sooner or later you are going to have to accept the fact that we are together, mom.  I wish you would just love me for me.”  She hung her head and began sobbing.  She brought her hand to her mouth, covering it before she began to slowly shake her head back and forth.  An eerie calm washed over her as she dropped her hand to her side and looked up at us with tear stained eyes. She simply replied, “Get out.”

            She called later that week to apologize, but things were never the same.  We drifted farther and farther apart and we barely spoke my entire senior year.  If it had not been for Ashley’s support, I can honestly say I would not have made it through that year.  But this was different.  This was my graduation.  This was supposed to be one of the most special days in my life.  I sent her an invitation and Glen said that she was going to meet them at the ceremony. He promised, ‘She wouldn’t miss it for the world’.

            There was obviously something better out there then the world, because she missed it.  She missed my graduation.  And it hurt me like nothing I had ever felt in my life.  Even with the distance that had built up between us, it felt like a dagger jammed through my heart.

            I sobbed into her shoulder for what seemed like hours.  She was my rock.  On the night we should have been celebrating, I could not stop bawling.  The situation began to overwhelm me and I untangled myself from her strong loving arms.  I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to run away.  I wanted to run away and never come back.

            “Let’s get out of here.”  No questions asked as she grabbed my hand and led me to her car.  As she was driving I realized she was heading to the spot that had become unmistakably ours.  This was the place we went to find ourselves and each other.  It seemed to have a dependable healing quality that could always be counted on.  But this time was different.  This pain was too strong.  Unlike in the past, this pain would follow us there.  We had to go farther.  Much farther.  I laid my hand on top of hers as she rested it on the center console.  She looked over at me and I said, barely audibly, “No, let’s really get out of here.”

            “Really out of here?  Like out of LA?” I merely nodded my head and she understood.  She knew that I was, in that moment, at the place where she had been for almost her whole life.  She had a fantasy about getting on the next plane out of LAX and not caring where it went. It was now something I wanted to make a reality. 

            We drove to the airport in a comfortable silence.  When we arrived, she asked if I was sure that this was what I wanted. As she looked into my eyes, she saw her answer.  We approached the desk with no luggage, simply the clothes we were wearing and our purses.  As she had always imagined, she asked the clerk the destination of the next flight out. 

            “New York”

            “Two tickets please.”